


"People are never perfect, but love can be."

by notjustmom



Series: Tom Robbins Remix [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, M/M, Sherlock Holmes's Retirement, Tom Robbins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-05 03:28:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14035215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: My favourite author in my 20s was Tom Robbins. His books are magical masterpieces, and I have the feeling he'd write an amazing Holmes and Watson... this is the first of, I hope, many glimpses of a Holmes and Watson that he could have written.





	"People are never perfect, but love can be."

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Čeština available: [“Lidé nejsou nikdy dokonalí, ale láska taková být může.”](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15887181) by [QueenMedbtheSecond](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenMedbtheSecond/pseuds/QueenMedbtheSecond)



No, they weren't perfect. Far from it. 

John whistled in his sleep.

Sherlock snored.

John nagged.

Sherlock still left unmentionables in the salad drawer.

John still did that thing with his pen when he was trying to think of that word he couldn't remember.

After all these years, Sherlock continued to argue that knowledge of the solar system took too much room in his mind palace, and arguing about it took even more, so if he(John) could kindly drop it, it would be appreciated, while John wondered aloud why it was that he was the one who always had to go to the shops.

Sherlock looked up at him and gave him the look, the look that communicated without a single word, "John, I love you dearly, but when have I ever stepped foot in a Tesco? It will never happen, especially now that we are several hundred kilometers from the nearest one. You know what I like to eat. Just come back to bed, because you know you'd rather be here, instead of trekking the five miles to the village, when it's completely unnecessary." He raised an eyebrow as he lifted the duvet and patted the still warm space next to him.

John huffed, because that is what John always did when Sherlock was right, and rolled his eyes, but like always, when he had no argument prepared, which was most of the time when it came to going back to bed, shrugged out of his robe, and removed his one slipper - the other - who knows where that had ended up - climbed back into bed and was instantly gathered up by the still lanky detective, because although they were far from perfect, they were perfect for each other.

Sherlock always remembered their anniversaries, even the insignificant days. Not that he believed there were insignificant days where John was concerned.

John never forgot what it was like to lose Sherlock, though he never used that fact against him.

Sherlock always brought John tea in the morning, and never forgot to whisper 'I love you, Bumble,' as John fell asleep in his arms every night.


End file.
